Petticoats
by ecol
Summary: In an alternate universe where the Founding Mothers thrive, Piper Hamilton challenges Georgia Eacker to a duel. With guidance from her mother and revenge in her heart, she must recollect her dignity, her name, and her honor.
1. Piper Hamilton

The air in my bedroom is stuffier than usual. I don't bother to open the windows, though; only warm air will blow through and make it impossible for me to concentrate on anything besides the heat.

I stand in front of my mirror, tucking a raven curl behind my ear. My hair is french braided on each side of my head, meeting at the top of my neck. My face is flushed, making my blue eyes shimmer. Today, I am wearing a gray bodice with a long, gray skirt with only one ring of skirts underneath. I bite my lip, making the area pink.

I smile. _She has no clue what's coming to her._

My brother Andrew stands in the doorway of his room, my father close behind him. My father looks me up and down, then looks back up at my face. "How are you today, Piper?"

"I'm quite swell. How are you?"

"I'm alright. Andrew is a bit of a handful. Could you help me with him later?"

I roll my eyes, but I make sure he can't see. My father is sensitive at times, and would take my non-verbal complaint the wrong way. "I'll help later. I have some business to attend to."

My father jerks his head up, his chocolate eyes sparkling with curiosity. "What.. type of business?"

I sigh. "It's just… my friend let me borrow her necklace. I have to return it today."

Elijah Schuyler Hamilton, in his glorious blue suit and shiny black boots, only nods.

He doesn't believe me.

Thankfully, I know how to get around Mr. Hamilton. He is so clueless at times, but he adores me, and I adore him equally. I guess you could say that I am my father's daughter. Yet, I have to burden of carrying my mother's name, and her brains, and even graduating at King's College like she did.

I carry my mother's name today, too. Georgia Eacker has a debt to repay me, a debt to my name, a debt to my family. And she will pay in words, or pay in blood.

As I think over what I'm going to say, rage flooding through me, I see a group of men standing on a corner. I approach them and they bow their heads in respect. I curtsy and smile graciously. "Good afternoon, gentlemen! Have any of you seen Georgia Eacker around this block?"

"She said she was going to see a play, Ms. Hamilton," one of the male's eyes shift to his buddy. His friend can't help but laugh. I laugh too, trying to keep the mood light.

"Well, I guess I should pay her a visit, then!" we laugh again, and it's a little bit awkward this time. I bite my lip as the gentlemen come closer to me.

"Ms. Hamilton, may I have permission to overstep my bounds?"

His question sends me for a loop; I become defensive immediately. "It depends on how far you're stepping, sir."

He cheeses, looking me up and down. "Piper, you are a fox."

I blush, not expecting such a forward comment. As I roll the words around in my brain a few times, I think of the perfect response. "Well, sirs, you both appear pretty dashing today as well," I lean closer to their ears, bringing them closer to me. "How about this; meet me at this corner when dusk settles in. Later, we can strip down to our socks."

The men nod in vigorous agreement. Their cheeks aren't nearly as flushed as other parts of their body. I kiss the one to my left on the cheek before sauntering off to Broadway to find the devilish Georgia Eacker.

The show was just starting when I entered her box. She was in a big magenta gown with a high collar; the poor prude pretends she has dignity, and yet slanders my mother with her disgustingly sharp tongue. That ends today.

"Georgia," I hiss, my face right behind her ear. She hushes me, but I call her name a bit louder. She whips around, her face full of rage.

"I'm trying to enjoy the show, Hamilton," Georgia folds her hands over her lap. "What do you want from me?"

"You should have held your tongue when you decided to slander my dear mother," I reply, wagging a finger in her face. Anger flares up in her face.

"You should choose your words wisely, Piper. The thing is, none of what I said is a lie. Therefore, it is not slander," her ugly, vomit-inducing mouth curls into a snarl. "Your mother is a scoundrel, and so are you."

 _She's done it._

I put my hand on the arm of her chair, leaning into her face. "Is it truly like that, Georgia?"

Georgia rolls her eyes, facing the stage again. "I am not your schoolgirl friends, Piper."

"Then I propose a duel!" I say a little louder than I had meant to.

Georgia shakes her head, then faces me again. "I know where to find you, darling," Georgia doesn't take her eyes off of me. "Now piss off! I'm trying to enjoy the show."

I leave the theatre, my heart pounding in my ears. _Georgia will pay. Georgia will pay._


	2. Alexandra Hamilton

My office is crammed at this time of day. My green dress, that I have been wearing for a few days, needs some laundering. At least Elijah had time to wash my underclothes. My bosom is well exposed, as it should be. I flaunt my figure passionately, as I believe that I am quite beautiful. My red hair, pale skin and blue eyes have made me an abnormality among dark skinned, dark haired, dark eyed Congresswomen (also known as Erin Burr, Tamie Jefferson, and Jamie Madison). I look up from my writing for the first time in a few hours. I stand for a moment, my chest feeling squeezed by my corset. My green gown shimmers in the lighting of the room, and my heavily petticoated legs feel like lead when I move to grab a book from my drawer.

She rushes into my studies, slamming the door behind her. "Mother!" she squeals, approaching my desk in such a violent manner that I can't help but begin to panic. I can't even begin to imagine what has happened.

Her face is bright red, and there might as well be steam erupting from the top of her head. She looks quite beautiful, except for the pure rage in her eyes. She leans over my work, and we are almost nose to nose.

"Piper, what's the matter?" I back up, moving around my desk. I hold onto her arms, making her stand still.

Piper approaches me still, and her spit lands on my cheek. "If only you had heard what she said about you, mother!"

"Slow down, darling, it's okay. What happened?"

Piper's eyes go wide. "I challenged her to a duel…" My daughter's choice begins to dawn on her. She pulls away from me, rubbing her temples.

The concept of a duel frightens me, but I know how to guide this in the right direction. "Did she attempt to negotiate peace?"

Piper throws her hands into the air, her face filling with blood again. "She refused!"

"Where is this happening?"

Piper almost looks embarrassed. "In New Jersey…"

I take a deep breath, wishing my daughter would do the same. "Alright, Piper. This is what you're going to do. Stand there, nice and proud, until she is directly in front of you. When you get to ten, fire your gun into the air. This will end the duel."

She begins to wring her hands together, fear building in her eyes. "But mother… if she shoots, I'd be killed."

I shake my head, taking Piper into my arms again. "No, if she is truly of honor, she will not fire. You absolutely cannot kill this woman, do you understand? Your father… He can't take another heartbreak."

"Mother…"

"Promise me, Piper." I clutch my daughter's shoulders, looking deep into her eyes. They look so much like mine, yet the life has not quite dwindled.

She takes a breath, holding onto my wrist. "I promise."

I smile brightly, having complete faith in my eldest. "Please, come back home when you're done. I'm making stew tonight. Be wise. Make me proud, Pip."

Piper nods solemnly, then turns on her heel to go. She slams the door closed. By the time she reaches the end of the hall, I hear my gun closet gently open and close. I hear footsteps down the stairs, out of the door. I sit back down at my desk, and go to write again, not a single feeling out doubt in my mind.


	3. Elijah Schuyler Hamilton

My wife by legality cradles my daughter's head. Alexandra is crying, her hair matted and her dress skewed. Blood is everywhere, on the table, on my wife, on Piper's face. It smells like death and panic as I rush towards my daughter, wrapping my arms around her.

"Piper!" I shout, and she coughs blood. I wipe the blood away from her paling face. Alexandra continues to cry, taking heaving breaths to calm herself.

Anger surges in my chest. I can feel myself scowl, I feel like my words are just me spitting fire. "Who did this, Alexandra."

She only shakes her head, sobbing even more. I cringe at my wife, feeling more disgusted than I have all of my life. Except for when…

"Did you know?!" I shout, gripping Alexandra's shoulder. She is startled and shrieks. I back off, as now my Piper is reaching out to me.

"Pa... " Piper grips my shoulder, her whole upper body shaking. I feel tears trickle down my cheeks, the panic of the room finally taking over me.

"I'm so sorry for forgetting what you taught me," Piper's voice is shaking, she's exerting too much energy.

"Pip…"

"You… you taught me piano…"

"You changed the melody every time."

Piper's eyes become more glazed as each moment passes. Then, she mutters something.

"What, Piper?" I push her hair out of her face. She holds on my hand, speaking louder.

She is shattering into a million pieces in my arms, and Alexandra still won't shut her mouth."Un, deux, trois…"

I finish her phrase for her. "Quatre, cinq, six sept, huit, neuf. You're doing good, Piper."

"Un, deux, trois, qua…" her eyes are closing. "Sept, huit, neuf."

Alexandra looks up at me, her blue eyes bloodshot.

"Sept, huit, neuf," I repeat, as my Piper goes limp in my arms.

 _"Set, huit."_


	4. Alexandra Hamilton (Part 2)

He screams loud enough to shake the heavens. I cannot breathe, I cannot see, I cannot think.

Elijah clutches our baby to his chest, red blood mixing with his light blue overcoat. I cry and cry, begging God to return my daughter to me.

He flings himself into our daughter's lap, his knees hitting the floor. I go to reach for his shoulder, trying to pull him closer to me, to comfort him, to dry his tears.

He pulls away. His face scrunches up, his dark curls flopping into his eyes. "Don't touch me. Don't touch me!"

"Ellie-"

"No. You don't have a right. I don't care if you helped make her. She's _my_ daughter. _You_ led her to her death!"

"Elijah, please-!"

 _"Shut your whore mouth!"_

Elijah storms out, wiping tears away from his face. I watch as they carry my daughter up, up, into the back. They are already beginning to prepare to bury her and I am forced to watch.

I return home at dinner time. I was escorted by one of the doctor's secretaries. When I walk into my home, Elijah is nowhere in sight.

Evening comes and goes. Candles are lit, a fire is stoked. I cry for a few hours, my other child clinging to my skirts.

"Mama!" Andrew pleads, grabbing onto my shoulder. He shouts my name, over and over again.

 _"Leave me be, Andrew Hamilton!"_

Andrew stumbles back. He's only nine, and I feel guilty for scolding him. I apologize, bringing my son into my arms.

"Andrew, darling," I run my fingers through his thick red hair, the motion comforting me. "Piper isn't going to be around here anymore."

"What do you mean, mama?" Andrew's brown eyes sparkle with his youth.

"Piper passed away today," I say, barely able to fight through the tears. I can feel my red hair turning grayer every moment.

Andrew stares at me, completely shocked. "W-What?..."

"Piper's gone, Andrew."

He looks down at my bosom, them back up at me. He wraps his tiny arms around my neck, holding on tight. "Oh, mama!"

We cry together for a while, mother to son. Piper was my pride and joy, but Andrew is my gem. He has a heart bigger than the sky. It hurt me that I had to be the one to break it.

We cry until the door unlocks. Both he and I turn to the door and see his father.

"Andrew, leave mama alone for a moment," Elijah comes and scoops him up into his giant arms. Andrew doesn't say anything as Elijah puts him to bed.

I stay downstairs, waiting to hear my husband's footsteps. The mahogany steps in our Manhattan home creak louder than rusty hinges. The pillars of oak and the beautiful drawing room Elijah designed all seems to go to black; they could not exist at all, but the pain I feel would continue on, and on, and on…

Elijah comes back downstairs. He looks me up and down. "Alexandra."

"Yes, Elijah."

Elijah continues down the stairs, "Shall we share our marriage bed tonight?"

The question strikes fear in me. If Elijah had asked me four months ago if I wanted to share our bed, I would have leaped into his arms as he brought me upstairs. But now… there is something different in the air. A tension that I can't take away with the swift removal of my skirts and underclothes.

I think for a moment, still not ready to answer. Elijah stands in front of me now. He takes my hand in his.

"I am still legally Elijah Schuyler Hamilton," he says, his eyes glazed and clearly dry. "Maybe we could work on making me a Hamilton emotionally, too."

I cannot speak.

"Piper was our first child. She was smart and beautiful and proud. But… she's gone, in an irreversible mistake. I don't believe you wanted to hurt her. I know you had the best intentions, Alexandra. I love you, and I cannot bear to see us suffer this apart." He looks me up and down again, as he always has done, as he always will. His dark clothes make him mix with his background, our moodlets tied in a dark ribbon of sorrow.

He holds my cheek in his palm. "Be my wife, if only for a short moment."

I nod, pressing my face into his hand. A long time ago, I made him swoon with my words, my sentiments, my passions; everything I wanted to do with him, to him, for him. We haven't rekindled that feeling in so long, and after everything with Matthew Reynolds, I missed being my husband's wife.

Tears spill over my eyes as we travel upstairs. He takes off his clothes quickly, leaping into bed after blowing his candle out. I slowly remove my dress, letting the fabric fall to the floor one piece at a time. I sleep in an underskirt and one of Elijah's overshirts. If anyone caught me like this, they would laugh in my face.

I lay next to my husband, wrapping my arm around him. He groans as he turns to face me. He leans his head so close to mine and presses a small kiss to my forehead.

Tears come and go, choking me. "I love you, Elijah."

"I love you, too, Alexandra."

With that, we are both at rest.


End file.
